Tyler
My knuckles bleeding and aching, I punched the raw flesh on the man's face, and the man's face bled out underneath.
The man squeaked beneath me like a mouse under a lion's paw—useless, and pathetic. His body nearly went limp on the spot, and I felt a tug on my shirt.
My breath caught. I turned my head. It was the girl who was almost assaulted. Her smeared make-up didn't hide her strength, which shook her ugly, but it made her beauty raw and defiant.
"Stop… or you'll kill him."
I can't stand it when someone's about to get assaulted or raped. I stood up, my bones and my back cracked with inaudible sounds.
"Do you know him?"
Something about this…
The whole thing feels off—strange, like a wicked plan was in place. I turned to the girl whose shirt was ripped off her shoulder, and I frowned. I wanted to help her get up, but the girl shook her head in my direction.
